


The Comfort of a Friend

by theatremusicbookworm



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: F/M, Post - A Storm of Swords
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-17
Updated: 2014-07-19
Packaged: 2018-02-09 07:55:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 3,898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1974963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatremusicbookworm/pseuds/theatremusicbookworm
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A scene I picture taking place towards the end of A Storm of Swords (that would be beginning of Season 4 for show watchers,) during Brienne's time imprisoned in the tower in King's Landing for the murder of King Renly. (Of course that wasn't a thing in the show because D&D suck.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Brienne awoke to a knock on her chamber door. She sat up groggily. _Who in seven hells could be calling at this hour?_ She heard the click of the lock. The door opened a crack and she squinted across the dark room at the stream of light that shone in from the outside hall.  
“Wench?”  
“Ser Jaime!” Brienne swung her legs from the beneath the blankets.  
“I woke you,” he murmured as he peered around the door. She scrambled to wrap a silk robe about her. The delicate silk hardly suited her, and was so tight around her shoulders that if she moved her arms the wrong was the fabric might burst from her back. However, it at least provided more coverage than the thin nightgown she’d also been supplied with. Jaime leaned against the doorframe smirking.  
“I think we’re a bit past modesty.” Brienne was glad the room was dark enough to hide her blush as she remembered the baths of Harrenhal. She turned to see him raise a bottle to his lips.  
“You’re drunk.” It wasn’t a question.  
“Not as drunk as I’d like to be,” he muttered. Brienne blinked.  
“What are you doing here?” He looked down at the floor.  
“I shouldn’t have disturbed you. I should just…” Jaime began to saunter back out of the room, but Brienne moved swiftly, pulling him in and softly closing the door behind him. He chuckled as she directed him to a chair. “Please,” he wrenched his arm from her grasp. “I haven’t need of a septa.” She crossed her arms and stood over him. Jaime chuckled and went to take another swig from his bottle. Brienne ripped it from his grasp.  
“What are you doing here?” she repeated, holding the bottle just out of his reach. He smirked.  
“Ah ,so the prisoner becomes the jailer. I see how it is.” This struck a chord. Brienne’s shoulders fell and her gaze dropped to the floor. Jaime lowered his head to his chest with a sigh. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean-”  
“Would you just answer me?” Her eyes were back on him now… those brilliant blue eyes…  
“I found myself in need of a-” He broke off. _What exactly am I in need of? What is this beastly woman to me anyway…_ “In need of… um… comfort,” he finished sloppily. Brienne quirked her brow at him.  
“Comfort?” she scoffed. “And you expect to find that here of all places?”  
“It would seem my wit’s rubbed off on you a bit, my lady.”  
“It would seem you think too highly of yourself, ser.” Jaime smiled. Brienne’s lips twitched up at the corners, the closest Jaime had ever seen of a smile, as she pulled up a chair beside him. She studied the bottle in her hands. “So what of this _comfort_ you seek?” He bit his lip.  
“I suppose comfort is a poor word… I suppose what I am in need of is a confidant…”  
“A confidant?” Jaime held her questioning gaze.  
“A friend.” This prompted a snort from Brienne.  
“And you came to find me? Just a few weeks ago you would have liked to see me dead.” Jaime sat up at this.  
“I wouldn’t say-”  
“Or at least well behind you.” He heaved a sigh.  
“Perhaps you’re right.”  
“I am.” He smirked at her quip.  
“But much has happened since then.”  
“Has it?” she replied coolly.  
“I saved you from a bear! And from being raped, more than once. I should bloody well say it has.” Brienne dropped her gaze.  
“A friend?” she whispered. Jaime tilted his head to the side, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a small smile.  
“A friend,” he confirmed.  
“Would you,” her tone darkened once more and she closed her eyes. “allow your _friend_ to stay locked away, accused of a murder you know she did not commit?” Her voice rose with every word. Jaime flinched away slightly.  
“You know I had little choice in the matter.” She huffed and shifted forward in her seat, her elbows resting on her knees, the bottle dangling from her fingers between her legs. Jaime studied her in the moonlight. Her silk dressing gown clung tight about her hunched back, making her muscles look more prominent. He found her strength slightly intimidating… and slightly… enticing… He though of reaching out to her… running a hand over that strong back of hers. _Merely to comfort her._ He reassured himself.  
“I could be well on my way by now, with Sansa,” she murmured, almost to herself. Jaime admired the way her eyes twinkled in the moonlight. They were glassed over. She was far away, planning her journey. He thought of breaking into those distant thoughts, with a stroke of her cheek, or a caress of her jaw… She blinked and pulled herself up a bit, and just like that the moment was gone. “Yet, you allow the Tyrells to treat me like a common criminal.”  
“Believe me, a _common_ criminal wouldn’t be wearing silk dressing gowns, although perhaps prison rags might suit you better.” She jumped up and crossed to the chamber’s window with two long strides.  
“Don’t tell me you choose now to be so soft skinned. My lady’s endured far worse japes on our journey here.” Brienne only crossed her arms and fixed her gaze out the tower window. Jaime sighed and pushed himself out of the chair.  
“Brienne… in truth I believe you are safer here.” Something about this phrase seemed to have startled her. She stared at him curiously a moment, before her plump lips curved into a rather charming smile. Jaime chuckled. "What?”  
“I think… that may be the first time I’ve heard you address me by my name.” He grinned.  
“Had I known it would draw such a pleasurable response I might have used it more often,” he paused a moment, and then couldn’t resist adding a quick, “Wench.” She punched his arm, none too gently. He feigned injury, to which she scoffed.  
“Would you really beat an already slighted man?”  
“How are you slighted?” her bright eyes shone with jest in the moonlight. Jaime turned to the window.  
“I wonder… if I might have that bottle back.” Brienne glanced down at the bottle still in her fist and then back at Jaime. Half of the red liquid remained inside, and it sloshed against the sides as Brienne raised it up, but rather than handing it to Jaime, she brought it to her lips. He watched in mild surprise as she began to drink, only growing alarmed when half the contents had disappeared. Just as he was about to reach out to stop her ,she lowered the bottle, breathless, and wiped her mouth with the back of her hand.  
“Gods, you’re worse than my brother and sister combined!” She rolled her eyes and brought the bottle to her lips again. Jaime’s good hand shot out and grabbed her wrist before she could drink any more. “You stubborn beast of a woman! Enough, you’ll make yourself sick. I won’t drink anymore alright?” She lowered it slightly.  
“Do you swear it?” Jaime rolled his eyes.  
“For gods sake, on whatever shred of honor I have left I swear it. Now enough!” Her gaze bore into him for a moment, before she allowed him to take the bottle from her and set it on a nearby table.  
“Talk,” she ordered, leaning against the cool stone wall, trying to make her movements appear casual, even though her brain was swimming. Jaime toed the flagstone floor.  
“It just so happens… that your tower is conveniently close to the Queen’s private chambers.” It took Brienne a moment to register his words.  
“Ah… so, you’ve just come from fucking your sister. Lovely.” For half a second Jaime looked as if he might hit her, but instead he turned and pressed his face against the stone wall, on the other side of the window, the moonlight dancing over his golden hair.  
“If only…” he murmured, barely audible. Brienne furrowed her brow. “She wouldn’t even look at me.” He pressed his right forearm against the stone and turned his face towards it slightly, away from Brienne. She only watched him, her mouth hanging half open. “And why should she?” he went on, “For what am I, but a self-pitying, old cripple.” His voice broke, and it was only then that Brienne realized he was crying. She brought her hand up, wanting to comfort him, but withdrew slightly. His body jerked against the wall as a sob overcame him. She took a step forward and gently brushed a lock of his golden hair behind his ear. It was a simple gesture… but perhaps too intimate. She began to draw her hand away doubtfully, but he caught her swiftly by the wrist. She gasped at his movement. Slowly, he turned his face to her, inspecting her hand, still in his grasp, caught in the stream of moonlight shining through the window.  
“Jaime.” Her voice was soft, barely a whisper. He raised his eyes to meet hers. _She does have beautiful eyes._ “You are neither old, nor a cripple.” He scoffed and tried to wipe the tears from his cheek into his shoulder.  
“And as for self-pitying?” She smiled, her eyes twinkling.  
“Well, I cannot disprove what is true, Ser.” He began to laugh, softly at first, but then it grew from his gut, and the next thing he knew he had thrown back his head and his laugh grew louder still. Still holding Brienne’s wrist, he drew her closer. She stumbled forward clumsily, bumping into his chest.  
“Ser Jaime!” she laughed, “Get a hold of yourself.” Jaime’s head snapped back up. The laughter had not yet died from his face. They stood nearly nose-to-nose, her wrist still in his grasp.  
“Thank the gods for you,” he tone was suddenly soft, almost tender. Green connected with hooded blue.  
“Jaime,” her whisper came out so wanton that she startled herself, gasping slightly. His lips curved into a small smile. The words came from his mouth before he could think about their repercussions.  
“May I kiss you Brienne?” Her lip trembled. She hadn’t heard him right. Surely…  
“I-” She’d forgotten how to form words.  
“A nod of the head will do,” he breathed. The smell of wine tickled her nose. Whether it was his breath, or hers, or both she didn’t know, nor care. It seemed a laborious effort to raise her chin slightly. When she lowered it again his lips were already on hers, soft and warm. He was so incredibly gentle. _I’m kissing the Kingslayer… he’s kissing me. Jaime’s kissing me._ She felt lightheaded. Jaime released her wrist, and moved his hand to cup her cheek. His other arm wound around her waist, pulling her closer still. Her fingers came to rest in his hair, tangled in the freshly washed golden locks. His lips worked against hers, slowly easing her mouth open, still moving slowly… _Lovingly…_ Brienne thought, _He’s kissing me like he loves me, like he wants me… like he wants-_  
Jaime was startled when her fingers abruptly left his hair, and she began to push against his shoulders. Reluctantly, he pulled away. She bit her lip, her eyes searching his with a sudden seriousness.  
“What is it?” He could practically see her thoughts whirling away inside her head.  
“I- Jaime, it is one thing to seek my council as a _friend_ but this… I don’t-” She took a shaky breath and looked away from him, her eyes finding the window. “I fear that you did not come for me, but… rather for what I have…” She heard his sigh of frustration and felt his arm loosen from her waist.  
“Brienne,” he murmured. His tone sounded so desperate. She closed her eyes. “Won’t you look at me?” After a moment she turned her head back, before opening her eyes. He looked at her intently. “Don’t think for a moment that I would use you in such a way. I have far too much respect for you.” She nodded, not meeting his eyes. His hand came up and brushed a strand of her straw colored hair from her cheek.  
“Why did you ask to kiss me?” she whispered to her toes. His lips twitched into a small smile.  
“I asked to kiss you because-” _Because why? I don’t love her. I could never-_  
“You could have any woman you wanted. You’re so beautiful and I’m so-” He pressed his fingers to her lips.  
“Don’t you dare,” he warned. She squeezed her eyes shut and pursed her lips. “Look at me,” he growled. When her eyes came to meet his, Jaime’s gut twisted in guilt.  
“I don’t want your pity Ser.” He clenched his jaw and wound his arms beneath hers, pulling her to him, only stopping when their foreheads met.  
“I did not kiss you out of _pity_ ,” he spat, “I kissed you because-” he grappled with his thoughts a moment. “because I damned well wanted to.” Her hands were on his shoulders once more, trying to push him away, but this time he pulled her nearer still. “I kissed you because I _care_ for you Brienne. Gods help me, I don’t know how that happened, but it did.” Her eyes found his, a glimmering light in the darkness. “I kissed you because you make me happy, and I kissed you,” he went on, “because you _are_ beautiful.” She opened her mouth to object, but he pushed on. “It’s true, you do not look the way a maiden from a song might, but that is part of what makes you so… remarkable… You’re strong,” His hand ran along the back of her arm. “svelte,” His hand traveled to her waist and rested there. “and you have, I think the most remarkable set of eyes I’ve ever seen.” She blinked, trying to comprehend his words.  
“Do you really mean-”  
“Yes,” he growled, pressing closer. “And,” His hand spidered back up her side, “although I asked to kiss you, I’ll ask nothing more.” Brienne closed her eyes, and Jaime tightened his hold on her, fearing that she might try to pull away again, but when she met his gaze once more, a small smile fell over her lips.  
“Thank you,” she whispered. He chuckled in relief.  
“My pleasure.” She tilted her head to the side, and hesitantly moved forward, her lips lightly brushing his. He smiled against her touch and closed the small space between them, capturing her lips with his own.


	2. Chapter 2

When they finally broke apart, both were breathless. Jaime grinned and leaned his forehead against Brienne’s. She smiled shyly back, her pale eyelashes fluttered against his brow.   
“Brienne?” Her smile grew wider at the sound of her name.  
“Yes?” Jaime drew away from her, just enough to see her face fully in the soft moonlight.   
“That wasn’t your first kiss, was it?” She bit her lip, as if swallowing a secret. The blush that budded from her neck and grew to her cheeks told all he needed to know. “Who was it?” She only smiled and looked away. “Oh come! I’ll tell you mine, but I fear that you’d guess before I said a word.” She only rolled her eyes. “Alright, if I guess will you tell me?” The windowpane suddenly seemed very interesting to Brienne, as she would not take her eyes off it. Jaime took her lack of response as a cue to go on. “Now let me see… I would say Renly the way you faun over him, even in death, but I know you weren’t his type…” She tensed, and her cheeks grew rosier still. Jaime laughed. “No! Really? You’re bluffing, surely!” Her sapphire eyes wandered up to the ceiling, her cheeks steadily growing redder. Jaime scoffed. “Brienne, look me in the eye and tell me it wasn’t Renly.” Slowly, she lowered her gaze from above and met his eyes. _Caught like a mouse in a trap… a very large, pale and freckly mouse at that…_ “Oh gods that’s rich. I’ll need details.” He smiled slyly up at her. She pulled away looking hurt.  
“It’s not funny Jaime,” she muttered. He bit his lip.   
“I’m sorry. Really… I just… he didn’t mistake you for a man did he?” This comment rewarded him with a sharp elbow to the ribs.   
“No,” she growled, suddenly fierce. “It was special. It was-” she broke off and turned away. After a moment, she felt Jaime’s hand on her shoulder, pressing, reassuring.  
“You really loved him… didn’t you?” She nodded. Jaime’s arms wound around her once more, his hand coming to rest on her abdomen. A tear rolled down Brienne’s cheek. She wasn’t sure why she was crying exactly. Was it for Renly? Her lost love for a man who would never return her affections? Perhaps for Jaime… for how happy he could make her feel one moment, and how utterly defenseless the next… He leaned his head on her shoulder. Her hands came to rest on his right forearm, just below where his hand had been severed. “Tell me,” he whispered in her ear, resting his hand over both of hers and squeezing.  
“About Renly?” She felt him, rather than saw him nod his head against her shoulder. She took a deep breath and leaned her head against his before plunging into her story.   
“It was my sixteenth name day,” she began, her eyes wandered up to find the moon. _It had been full that night, so many years ago too._ “My father had hosted a party. There was food, music… dancing… and Renly had come. He was so handsome… a few years older than me… and so incredibly charming…” Her voice trailed off dreamily. Jaime smirked, a number of quips coming to mind, but kept his mouth shut. “Anyway,” she caught herself, “there were few men who were interesting in having their toes trod on by a beastly girl of my size.” Jaime pulled her tighter, almost defensively, making Brienne smile slightly. “ _Renly_ however, approached my seat, and asked me to dance... The way he had held me…” Her brow furrowed, and her eyes seemed to have glazed over. “Like I was something delicate… I had never felt more graceful… more… womanly… than when he held me in his arms.” Jaime closed his eyes, the hour finally beginning to take its toll on his weary bones. He pulled her closer and pressed a soft kiss against her silk clad shoulder.   
“Go on,” he whispered against it. She smiled and closed her eyes, her head tilting back, exposing her long, pale neck to the stark white moonlight.   
“When the last dance had been had,” she pressed on, “and the guests began to retire for the evening… He offered to walk me to the foot of the stairs. I took his arm, and we went on our way… As I was lighting my candle to bring upstairs, he asked me is he might give me a gift for my name day.” Brienne breathed in the cool night air and leaned her head against Jaime’s once more. “I asked him… what he might give me… to which he replied ‘a kiss,’ as if it were the simplest thing in the world…” She opened her eyes, and brought her head up once more. Jaime watched her through half closed lids.   
“And so?” he pressed. She turned in his arms to face him, winding her arms around his neck.   
“I said yes,” she whispered. Jaime studied her a moment, and brushed a lock of hair from her face.  
“Show me,” he murmured.   
“What?”  
“Show me how he kissed you.” Brienne’s lip trembled, her eyes shifting, trying to look anywhere but at him.   
“I can’t… I just-”  
“Close your eyes,” he whispered, cupping her cheek reassuringly. She did as he bid her. “Now,” his voice washed over her like a gentle rain. “Kiss me as Renly kissed you that night. _Show me._ ” Tentatively, she wet her lips, and leaned in slightly. Her breath hitched as her eyes found his in the moonlight. Her long fingers caressed his jaw a moment, before pressing her lips to his, and slowly working them apart. Her tongue was warm, wet, inviting… _She tastes of honey._ Jaime thought absurdly, _Honey and herbs…_ He involuntarily moaned into the kiss. Brienne broke away, startled, her face flushed. Jaime chuckled.  
“Sorry,” he murmured, pulling her to him so they were chest-to-chest. “I must say, if Renly truly kissed like that, I may even have fallen for him.” Her lips curved into a shy smile. Jaime began to smile back, but then had to stifle a yawn. “Do excuse me,” he murmured. “I believe my bed is calling.” With that he pressed one last kiss to her forehead and reluctantly extracted himself from her embrace. She watched as he stumbled a short ways, before colliding with a chair. Although she was unsteady herself, she managed to grasp his arm.   
“Don’t be a fool. You’ll never make it back to your chambers that way.” He smirked and straightened up, clutching her arms for support.  
“What do you suggest my lady?” Brienne pulled her robe tighter about herself, suddenly self conscious.   
“I… you could stay…” He quirked his brow at her.  
“You would share your bed with me?” His glittering eyes studied hers carefully. “I would not compromise your honor Brienne.” She smiled shyly.  
“I know.” She took his hand in hers. “I trust you.” She began to lead him to the bed. “We have spent many nights on the road, sleeping side by side.”  
“But never in a bed,” he pointed out, allowing her to guide him forward.   
“Would it be so very different?” She lowered herself onto the mattress. Jaime stood over her, entranced.   
“What happened to that modest girl I found in this room just a short while ago?” Her brow furrowed.   
“Perhaps it’s the drink…” she murmured.  
“Perhaps it’s something else.” He brought her hand to his lips and pressed a soft kiss to her knuckles, before sitting beside her. Slipping her hand out of his, Brienne reached for the hem of her robe and shrugged it from one of her broad shoulders, then the other. She could feel her face growing warm. Jaime watched hypnotically as she removed the garment and allowed it to fall to the floor beside the bed in a cool silken puddle. Her nightdress was thin, nearly see-through. He could see the goose pimples forming along her long arms. Her eyes swept over him.   
“Aren’t you going to-” she gestured quickly to his clothes. He smiled slyly.   
“What would you like to see?” Her face grew red, even in the dark Jaime could see her embarrassment.   
“I didn’t mean-”  
“I’m joking. Honestly woman…” He reached down and pulled off a boot, then the other. Brienne pushed herself back against the pillows and slipped her legs beneath the covers as she watched him. Once he was down to only his shirt and trousers he turned back to her. She watched him through half-closed eyes, settled back in the bed. Smiling, he leaned over and gently kissed her forehead.  
“Good night Brienne.” He pulled back the covers and slipped in beside her. After a moment her strong arms snaked around him, drawing him closer. He smiled sleepily.  
“Good night Jaime,” she whispered.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this short fic! Comments and kudos are always welcomed.


End file.
